A Note from the Author-
Well hello Twilight fans! It's been a while since I've written on this site, but I felt the need to share this story with you lovely people. First of all, know that I am not a HUGE Twilight fan, but I am NOT a hater, nor will I condone hating on other people's writing. It takes a lot of time to write a novel and a lot of energy. So without further ado, please enjoy this Harry Potter/Twilight Crossover about a young witch who falls into the lives of our favorite vampires... and brings magic and Hogwarts with her! And a side note... there is no Bella in this story. My greatest apologies to her fans, but my OC replaces her. Now... ON WITH THE SHOW :) Less than three!
Disclaimer: I do not, nor will I ever claim to, own Twilight… that belongs to Stephanie Meyer and her imagination. Nor do I own the Wonderful World of Harry Potter… that brilliance belongs to Ms. JK Rowling. I own Addison Smith and her mother, Juliette Smith. That’s about it, please enjoy!
Prologue: My Wonderfully Magical Life
I live in the United States in the twenty-first century with my single mother. My last name is Smith. I, like the rest of my fellow teenagers, attend some form of high school. I couldn’t get any more average if I tried…Yeah right.
My name is Addison Smith and I am a witch. Apparently, I’m something called a Pureblood because my mom is a witch too and she said my dad was, even though she won’t tell me who he was. She said it’s for my safety. Up until lately, I attended Salem School for Young Witches. It wasn’t actually in Salem, Massachusetts… it was in Andover a couple miles away, but that’s beside the point. It was founded by the Salem Witches themselves, before they were burned of course. They wanted their legacy to live on. We were taught pretty advanced magic, and our curriculum revolved around Potions and Defense because we were always ready for a fight. There was some type of war waging in Europe, but as Americans we stayed out of their business… still it was nice to be prepared. Our government was fairly new compared to theirs, and a lot more laid back about control over magic. I only know these differences because my mom is British and grew up there. She has such a nice accent, and I do too, but I turn it on and off as I please… because I’ve been in America since I was five.
I asked my mom so many times why I couldn’t go to school where she went, at Hogwarts in Scotland, but she just told me every time that it was too dangerous with that damn war. So I contented myself to learn with my friends at SSYW, but a part of me was always curious. In America our schools were really different. We started much earlier, like our normal Muggle schools, at age 6-7. The grading system ran parallel to muggle schools, because it made living among muggles so much easier. Also, we prided ourselves on being some of the most advanced witches of the world. And, being that we were in America, we tried to mesh technology into our lives as much as possible. So when I wasn’t at school, I was like every other music and texting obsessed teenager. We used minimal magic in my house, because my mother always mumbled something about a Trace, even though that only existed in Europe.
But everything I knew, and everything I’d been prepared for was tested that day I came home for Christmas Break. I lived in Salem, so it wasn’t really a problem for me to walk to the edge of campus and drive home. I wasn’t expecting the scene I came home to. We had extensive protection, magical of course, on our house because my mother was paranoid. So I didn’t really expect a break-in. But my mom wasn’t waiting on the lawn like usual, and there was no smoke coming from our chimney. But there was smoke coming from everything else… FLASHBACK!
I cut the car engine and sighed happily as I grabbed my suitcase from the trunk. It felt good to be home for a weekend. You see, we celebrate American Holidays in the wizard community so I was home for Labor Day weekend, which was only a month into school, but they let us visit parents. It was all great until I turned around to the smell of smoke.
“MOM!” I shouted in a panic. My house was on fire. And it was getting bad. I called 911, but they said they’d already sent a truck out and it hadn’t found my address. We secluded ourselves in a small home in the woods, and the dispatcher scolded me for playing a joke. Well, no help from the muggles, I thought bitterly.
“Aguamenti!” I shouted, trying to down my house in water. It worked after a half-an-hour and I went running in to try and find my mother, but she wasn’t there. The only thing that seemed to be in tact was an old teddy-bear of mine and I picked it up gingerly, tears brewing in my eyes. Instantly I was transported. The thing was a freaking Portkey!
And that’s how I basically found myself in the middle of a forest I didn’t know, curled in a ball and crying because I had no idea what was going on.
Welcome to my Wonderfully Magical Life.